


Me and you and you and me

by piano_unicorn



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Coming Out, Dorks in Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Training Camp, Tsukishima Kei is Bad at Feelings, Yamaguchi Tadashi's Freckles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:21:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25607299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piano_unicorn/pseuds/piano_unicorn
Summary: Tsukki comes to terms with being in love with his best friend.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 24
Kudos: 117





	1. Admitting

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first multi-chapter work, and I'm not quite sure how I want to arrange things yet. But this fic will be an exploration of Tsukishima and Yamaguchi's relationship and how they get together. This first chapter is just a very dumb, very fluffy scene that I couldn't get out of my head at 4 in the morning. :-)  
> Description, rating, and tags will be updated as I update the story. 
> 
> Also, side note, I have no idea if crown imperials can actually grow in Japan...but they remind me of Yamaguchi's hair so...
> 
> Thanks for reading!

As a kid, it had taken Tsukishima a while, several months in fact, to admit to himself that Yamaguchi was his friend.

At first, he had merely thought of Yamaguchi as “not annoying.” Most people were annoying. Yamaguchi was not. Like most kids, he had been intimidated by Tsukishima at first, but he had never been outright afraid of him the way some kids were. And he seemed to have quickly picked up on Tsukishima’s wry sense of humor. He liked to talk, but he also knew when to be quiet. He laughed at Tsukishima’s jokes and openly admitted that he thought Tsukishima was the coolest kid in school which inflated his ego a bit. But it wasn’t the flattery Tsukishima admired as much as the blatant sincerity. Yamaguchi was an open book, honest to a fault, and easy to read. And he settled comfortably into Tsukishima’s life in a way no other kid ever had. It wasn’t that he enjoyed spending time with Yamaguchi. It was just that he…wasn’t annoying. And if he wasn’t annoying, what did it matter to Tsukishima if he hung around all the time?

But a few months into their friendship, Tsukishima had begrudgingly admitted to himself that, yes, Yamaguchi was really and truly his friend. And, yes, he actually did enjoy spending time with him…although he’d never admit something so lame out loud. It kind of dawned on him one day when he realized that Yamaguchi had been calling him “Tsukki” for weeks. It was a dumb, cutesy nickname, the kind other kids, kids that weren’t like him, would give to their friends. And, yeah, it was dumb. And, yeah, it sounded girly. But…Tsukishima didn’t really mind. And, if he didn’t mind, that must mean that Yamaguchi really was his friend.

An aggravating realization really.

In the years since, Tsukishima had been forced to come to terms with the fact that, not only was Yamaguchi his friend, he was really and truly his best friend. He was such a part of Tsukishima’s life at this point that he almost felt innate, like oxygen or gravity or something. Something inescapably necessary.

Tsukishima sometimes wondered if Yamaguchi felt the same way about their friendship, if it was as fundamental, as crucial as it was to himself. Yamaguchi certainly had other friends now. Tsukishima wasn’t his only avenue for companionship anymore which is kind of how it had felt for a while when they were little. At this point he could easily find other people to fill the roles Tsukki had filled if he wanted to. But, despite that fact, Yamaguchi kept choosing to rely on Tsukki. And, though he’d never admit it, that made Tsukishima feel pretty proud. It was him that Yamaguchi came to with his troubles, not someone nicer like Hinata, or even someone nicer who actually had a brain, like Sugawara.

And so, it was Tsukishima who was begrudgingly half-listening to Yamaguchi moan about his jump float serve and how he couldn’t seem to aim it accurately no matter how much he tried.

“I spent like a whole hour after practice yesterday at Shimada’s just working on that Tsukki,” Yamaguchi whined, his hands pulling frustratedly at his frayed sweatshirt sleeves, “but I didn’t even get one to go where I wanted.”

“Isn’t the entire point of a jump floater that no one is supposed to know where it’s going?” Tuskki asked flatly, already thoroughly bored with this conversation.

“Well, yeah, the other team’s not supposed to know where it’s going, but I’m supposed to know, at least generally, where it’s gonna end up!”

This conversation had been going on, essentially on a loop, since they left school, and Tsukishima was getting really annoyed at this point. But Yamaguchi seemed really, actually upset, more upset than he normally got about stuff like this. He slumped dejectedly as they walked, hands now shoved into the pockets of his uniform pants. His face was an angry red, and his eyes had that shimmery look they sometimes got right before he started crying. Even his freckles looked droopy.

 _Shit_ , Tsukki thought. This was ridiculous, really. Yamaguchi would improve his serve soon, just like he had improved it in the past. He worked insanely hard, and he was talented. And he’d probably have a breakthrough in, like, a couple days.

 _That’s probably the kind of thing you should say out loud_ , he thought to himself. But the idea of voicing something so blatantly obvious made his head hurt.

“I wanna go to the park,” he said instead, jerking his head toward the little park they passed every day on the way home.

Without waiting for an answer, Tsukishima turned sharply and headed into the park. He didn’t look back, but he could hear the crunch of Yamaguchi’s footsteps behind him. They walked silently along the little mulch-covered path towards the center of the park. It was just a ring of benches surrounding a run-down slide and swing set. But the trees around them were thickly planted and provided a pleasant dappling of shade. And the puny flower beds were actually really pretty.

Tsukki particularly liked the little bed to the right of the bench they sat down on. The flowers were a pleasant reddish-peach color that reminded him of strawberry shortcake. He’d looked them up once. _Fritillaria imperialis_. The crown imperial. The way their flowers drooped elegantly to the side while their green leaves stuck straight up reminded him of Yamaguchi’s hair.

Yamaguchi was sitting rather close to him. He tended to be a bit clingier when he was sad. Tsukki didn’t really mind…which was another thing he’d had to come to terms with. He hated when people touched him…but he didn’t mind when it was Yamaguchi.

Tsukki slid even closer, pressing the sides of their thighs together and bumping Yamaguchi’s shoulder with his own. There was a long line of warmth from his knee to his shoulder now. When they sat like this it always seemed like that warmth slowly infused into the rest of Tsukki’s body, leaving him feeling pleasantly calm. Deep down he kinda hoped it did the same for Yamaguchi. His best friend looked up at him when they sat down, wide brown eyes still shining slightly. But he didn’t say anything.

They sat in silence for several minutes, Yamaguchi fiddling dejectedly with his phone and Tsukki thumbing through his iPod. It took him a minute, but he finally found what he was looking for.

“Tsukki?” Yamaguchi asked softly when he felt Tsukki’s headphones settle over his ears.

“Shut up, Yamaguchi,” Tsukki muttered, although there was no sharpness to his tone. As he pulled his hands away, he ghosted the pad of his thumb over Yamaguchi’s cheek, tracing almost imperceptibly across freckled skin.

“Gomen, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi said. He smiled then, eyes and nose crinkling in tandem as he did. Some of his freckles folded in on themselves when he smiled like that.

_When in hell did you start noticing the way his freckles fold?_

He fisted his hands in his lap and resisted the sudden urge to reach out and touch them again.

Tutting slightly under his breath he grabbed the iPod roughly, and turned on the song he had selected. It wasn’t a song he listened to often himself. His musical tastes were eclectic, ranging from heavy metal to alt rock to the occasional jazz or classical. But this song was gentle and folksy. He couldn’t really remember what the words said. They were pretty nonsensically poetic, and he had only listened to it a couple of times. He’d only saved it in the first place because it had reminded him so forcefully of Yamaguchi: aggravatingly sincere and yet oddly calming all at once.

As he listened, Yamaguchi turned and leaned his head gently against Tsukki’s shoulder. Tsukishima closed his eyes as they sat and let the warm feeling from Yamaguchi’s touch suffuse through him.

Tsukishima didn’t know if he was the best person to be Yamaguchi’s best friend. He could admit to himself that he was a bit rough around the edges. He was blunt to a fault, and he wasn’t great at talking about emotional shit. And yet, for some bizarre reason, Yamaguchi seemed to have chosen him above all the other easier and more qualified options. And, on days like today, when Tsukki got to sit close to him, got to bathe in his warmth and closeness and watch the way his face lit up listening to a sappy song, it was easy to admit that Yamaguchi was his best friend. And it was even easier to be stupidly happy about that fact.


	2. Uncomfortable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akiteru talks about his new girlfriend. Yamaguchi is interested. Tsukki is uncomfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if there's any formatting issues with this chapter. I ran out of patience with editing lol.  
> Also the rating has gone up due to brief mentions of sex.  
> Hope you enjoy!

“So how long have you guys been going out?” Yamaguchi asked, glancing up momentarily from his game. He was occupying one corner of the Tsukishima’s couch, hunched over his Switch playing Pokémon

Tsukishima was curled into the other corner of the couch, wrapped around his own game. The two friends often spent their evenings this way—playing games on someone’s couch after they finished their homework. It was comforting, typical, routine.

What wasn’t routine was Akiteru, sitting in the recliner to their left yammering on and on about his new girlfriend.

Personally, there were very few things in life that interested Tsukishima less than hearing about his brother’s dating life. Yamaguchi, on the other hand, seemed positively enthralled. Akiteru was talkative at the best of times, but given such a captive audience…well, suffice to say Tsukishima wasn’t predicting the end of this torture anytime soon.

He curled further inward, his nose nearly touching the device’s screen.

 _Just focus on the game_ …he thought.

“Mmmm,” Akiteru hummed, smiling impishly, “Gotta be more specific, Yams….like, define ‘going out.’”

Tsukishima glanced sideways at Yamaguchi and nearly laughed out loud at his puzzled expression. He looked like Akiteru had asked him to solve a Calculus equation.

Akiteru actually laughed out loud, his laugh as energetic and obnoxiously loud as it had always been. He was so goddam loud. Tsukishima curled impossibly further into himself. Maybe he could compress himself down enough to collapse like a dying star and turn into a black hole?

_Worth a try._

“Um…well…” Yamaguchi stuttered, face flushing lightly pink, “aren’t you either going out or not going out?”

“Ah, ah, ah, you have much to learn, my young Padawan,” Akiteru’s grin looked positively devilish now, “There’s ‘officially’ dating. You know—calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend, going on dates, and stuff. We’ve been doing that for 3 weeks now, but it’s been months of buildup.”

“Buildup?” Yamaguchi asked.

“Yeah! I mean like, we’ve been hanging out and stuff since January and talking and flirting…it was intense!” Akiteru was standing now, gesturing emphatically with his hands. Yamaguchi looked on with wide, captivated eyes, “I kissed her like 2 months ago. And the first time we had sex was—”

“Okay!” Tsukishima practically yelled, hastily pausing his game and unfurling himself from his cocoon in the corner. He fixed his brother with what he hoped was his iciest, most devastating stare.

“I would literally rather die than hear about your sex life. Finish that sentence and I will throw myself off the roof,” he deadpanned.

To his right, Yamaguchi dissolved into a fit of giggles, doubling over and clutching at his sides.

To his left, Akiteru just smiled even more deviously, clearly unintimidated by his brother’s threats, “Awww, come on, baby brother. All I was gonna say is that we had sex like a month before we started dating.”

Tsukishima felt his face grow hot with a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance. He fixed Akiteru with a bored glare and stood, heading toward the stairs.

“Have fun explaining my dead body to mom,” he droned. But Yamaguchi grabbed his arm as he turned to go.

“No…don’t go…stay…gomen, Tsukki…don’t jump off the roof,” he gasped in between giggles. The hand he had used to grab him was making Tsukki’s arm shake with the force of his laughter.

Akiteru was laughing now, too—the deep, booming baritone of it blending with Yamaguchi’s breathless chuckles in a bizarre harmony.

Dimly, in some nebulous, unexplored corner of his mind, Tsukki realized that he liked Yamaguchi’s laugh a lot more than Akiteru’s.

He desperately wanted to escape to his room, but he was, as always, pretty week to Yamaguchi. Sighing, he plopped back down on his corner of the couch, resolved once more to ignore the both of them until this conversation was over.

Yamaguchi’s laughter faded slowly into the occasional hiccup as Akiteru reached into his back pocket for his phone.

“So, anyway,” he said, “do you guys wanna see a picture of her?”

“Yes!”

“No” They spoke in unison. Akiteru chuckled again and flopped unceremoniously onto the tiny couch. He barely fit in between them, but he squashed himself in, undeterred. One of Tuskki’s arms was now pinned against his brother’s right side, and, once again, he longed quietly for the sweet relief of death.

Yamaguchi didn’t seem to mind, of course, although he was pinned in a similarly uncomfortable position. He just laughed good-naturedly because Yamaguchi adored Akiteru, maybe more than he adored Tsukki…ok, that probably wasn’t true.

Regardless, Yamaguchi had always had this weirdly close connection with Akiteru. The two had first met early in Tsukki and Yamaguchi’s friendship and had really hit it off. Even at the time, Tsukki had noticed a marked difference in Yamaguchi’s behavior towards him after meeting Akiteru. He was more relaxed, less intimidated by him. Come to think of it, he’d first called him “Tsukki” after hearing Akiteru use the nickname.

Maybe seeing the way Akiteru was thoroughly unfazed and unimpressed by Tsukki—the person Yamaguchi thought of as the epitome of cool—was a revelation. Or maybe it was seeing the way Tsukki had looked up to and admired Akiteru at the time. Or maybe the way Akiteru constantly ribbed and antagonized Tuskki lent Yamaguchi a bit of courage…

He’d never really thought about it, but, in a weird, roundabout way, Tsukishima supposed he might owe their friendship to the fact that Akiteru was an insufferably annoying ass.

“What do you think, little brother?” Akiteru asked, shoving a phone under Tsukishima’s nose, yanking him abruptly from his musings.

The girl—well, woman actually—in the selfie was wearing a bikini. She and Akiteru were at the beach on what was clearly a hot, sunny day. She had long, wavy brown hair that hung loose around her shoulders, and wide, blue eyes framed with thick, dark lashes. She was nestled against Akiteru, his arm slung across her shoulders. It was a nice photo. Akiteru had clearly snapped it while they were laughing. They looked…happy, relaxed.

But, the angle of the camera, held high over their faces, gave a rather invasive view of the woman’s plentiful cleavage. Which, in retrospect, was probably one of the things Akiteru liked about the photo.

Tsukki tried to shove thoughts of _how much_ Akiteru might like this particular photo from his mind…

“Good photo,” he muttered His face felt suddenly hot, and his brother’s body heat next to him was starting to feel suffocating.

Akiteru, seemingly oblivious to his brother’s discomfort, rolled his eyes, “Good photo?! She’s hot! Back me up here, Yamaguchi!”

Tsukki glanced at Yamaguchi then, noticing that his face had gone a rather pleasant shade of pink. He was nodding emphatically, eyes wide but avoiding Tsukki’s gaze.

Tsukki suddenly felt like his stomach had dropped out of his body. Or maybe it was twisting in on itself? He wasn’t sure. Didn’t matter. He needed this conversation to end. Goddammit! Why did he suddenly feel deathly ill? This was all Akiteru’s fault…

“Thank you, Yams!” Akiteru said, apparently vindicated. He was now staring expectantly back at his brother.

It took all of Tsukkishima’s effort to hold back simultaneously his urge to vomit and his murderous fury.

He shrugged.

Akiteru rolled his eyes and shoved his phone back in his pocket, “What? She not your type or something?” He paused then, for a long moment, tapping a puzzled finger against his chin, “Come to think of it, what is your type, anyway?”

_God, how did I end up talking about something like this with him? Did I actually die? Is this Hell?_

Yamaguchi and Akiteru were both staring at him now, Akiteru with mild annoyance and amusement and Yamaguchi with some unreadable look on his face. It was halfway between curiosity and…something Tsukki couldn’t place.

Tsukki felt like he might explode. His face felt hot, his blood felt hot, and maybe he was gonna throw up?...he needed to leave. He needed to move, to get some space. He needed…

Just then the rattling of a key in the doorknob jerked him out of his thought spiral. Akiteru leapt up to greet their mom who called a cheery greeting as she stepped into the house. Tsukki released a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, and some of the heat in his gut started to fade.

_Thank, god._

Yamaguchi was still looking at him with that weird expression. He smiled softly when Tsukki caught his gaze before he, too, stood up to great Tsukki’s mom.

Tsukishima had only dim awareness of the next several minutes. His mom pressed a kiss to the top of his head, seemingly undeterred by the fact that he was the only one who hadn’t greeted her. She’d said something about it being late and it was a school night tomorrow and wouldn’t Yamaguchi’s parents expect him home?

Yamaguchi had left shortly after, shooting another one of those soft smiles at Tsukki as he left. Those smiles didn’t make his freckles crinkle like his other smiles…

The realization that he had a mental catalogue of his best friend’s smiles was perplexing…and maybe a bit distressing…

Akiteru had settled into some banal, uninteresting conversation with their mom, and Tsukki had excused himself to his room. As he left, he was distinctly aware of Akiteru watching him curiously.

An hour later, he lay in his room with only his desk lamp on, staring blankly at the ceiling. Yamaguchi would probably categorize this behavior as “brooding,” something he insisted Tsukki was prone to. Granted, laying in silence in a half-dark room staring at the ceiling probably wasn’t the least broody thing he’d ever done but whatever.

In all honesty, he didn’t know why he had gotten so upset. I mean, yes, Akiteru was always annoying. But, usually, he was annoying in the way that like, Kageyama or Hinata were annoying—irksome and a nuisance but not sufficiently interesting to be truly vexing.

But something about that conversation—talking about dating, about sex, being asked about his preferences in girls—it made him feel shriveled up inside like he wanted to curl into a ball again and never come out.

The very last thing he wanted right now was a knock on his door. However, since he was now existing in Hell, he supposed he should have expected it.

He gave no answer, but after a beat or two he heard his door creak open slowly. He didn’t look up as Akiteru padded over to his bed and sat gingerly on the edge of it.

“Hey, um,” he began. His tone sounded contrite, but Tsukki resolutely avoided his gaze.

“Um, yeah, I wanted to say that…like…I’m sorry if talking about all that stuff early upset you. I should have cut it out when I realized you were uncomfortable.”

Tsukki could well and truly hear the contrition in his brother’s voice now, but he wasn’t in a particularly forgiving mood at the moment. So, he said nothing.

After several awkward beats of silence, Akiteru continued, “Anyway…I was thinking about it, and…well…I really did come up here to apologize. But…um…I also just wanted to tell you that it’s…I hope you know that…it’s okay.”

Confused, Tsukki cut his eyes over to meet Akiteru’s gaze, quirking an eyebrow. “’It’s okay?’” he parroted.

“Yeah, um,” Akiteru rubbed uncomfortably at the back of his neck and smiled sheepishly, “I mean it’s okay that you’re, you know, gay…or whatever….”

 _That_ got Tsukki’s attention. He slowly pulled himself into a sitting position, narrowing his eyes and shoving his glasses higher on nose.

“I should have realized it sooner, honestly,” Akiteru continued, “You’ve never been interested in girls or anything and—”

“I’m not gay,” Tsukki interrupted. His voice sounded foreign and hollow, even to his own ears.

Awkward silence again settled over the room. Akiteru stared at Tsukki, and Tsukki stared back, incredulous. He watched, stone faced, as Akiteru’s expression cycled through surprise, then confusion before it settled on some weirdly soft expression that Tsukki couldn’t identify.

_Why was everyone giving him weird, inscrutable looks tonight?_

Several beats more of silence passed before Akiteru laughed softly, seemingly in embarrassment, and rose to leave.

“Okay, Kei,” He said gently and turned to leave. “Do you want me to turn the light off?”

Tsukki nodded, having already crawled under his covers and shut his eyes in what he hoped was an obvious enough hint that this conversation—and this day—was indisputably _over_.

He listened for the sharp “click” of his desk lamp switching off and the soft “thunk” of his door shutting. When he finally opened his eyes again it was to complete darkness.

His limbs felt heavy with exhaustion. His eyes ached with the need for sleep. And that horrible, sick feeling in his stomach was back. But despite all of this, he had the sinking feeling that he wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight.


	3. Insomnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsukki resolves not to think about things, faces some insomnia, and the boys create a new tradition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In spite of two migraines and some corrupted computer files, I (finally) bring you this chapter.  
> This was so hard to write because it's a bit more introspective than the other chapters. Hopefully it's not too boring! Also, there's lots of angst and self-indulgent fluff, as per usual.

Tsukki was wrong. He hadn’t gotten any sleep for 4 nights now.

The first night had been manageable. It was rare, but Tsukki occasionally pulled all-nighters, usually when a volleyball tournament and a major exam happened to fall in the same week. So, he was no stranger to dragging himself, half-dead, through a day of school on no sleep. He was young. He bounced back fast. It was a nuisance, but a manageable one.

Honestly, he doubted anyone else even noticed. Well, Yamaguchi noticed of course. When they met to walk to school Friday morning, Tsukki saw his friend’s gaze flick worriedly over his face, widening at the purple shadows under his eyes. But Tsukki had hastily muttered “hello” and shoved his headphones over his ears which Yamaguchi knew was a sign not to ask.

But certainly no one else had noticed. He’d even been in good form during volleyball practice. Tsukki was nothing if not capable and reliable. He could handle a sleepless night now and again.

His confidence in his ability to “handle it” had run out by Monday.

He’d spent the entire weekend tossing and turning, only able to sleep for a few minutes, maybe an hour at a time before jolting awake again.

It was all Akiteru’s fault. Evidently, his brother, with his fumbling accusations and baseless assumptions, had cursed him, had called down a plague of insomnia upon him and left Tsukki to suffer its wrath. Akiteru’s theory about him was ridiculous. Tsukki knew it was ridiculous. That’s why he had resolved not to think about it. But he couldn’t seem to _stop_ thinking about it.

The words would just pop into his mind at the most inopportune times.

“You’re, you know, gay.”

He’d just be watching TV or reading or _trying to goddamn sleep_ and then bam! Akiteru’s words and his voice and his weird, sympathetic looks. And then Tsukki would have to spend the next several minutes very deliberately shoving those thoughts into a tiny box and sealing them away in a cold, dark corner of his mind where they belonged.

They wouldn’t stay put, though. Nothing worked as a sufficient distraction for long, and he spent the entire weekend suffering—cycling between fitfully attempting to sleep, pacing, unsuccessfully distracting himself, and pointedly not thinking about Akiteru or his hairbrained assumptions. And by Monday, he was well and truly miserable.

Even worse, he was well and truly miserable, and everyone could tell. He could tell they could tell. They were hardly subtle.

Ennoshita kept shooting him sympathetic glances, asking meaningfully if he was getting enough sleep. He just grunted noncommittally. Couch Ukai kept pulling him aside to “talk about his form.” (Which Tsukki surmised was a thinly veiled excuse to give him momentary practice breaks.) Noya kept patting him—well, slapping him. Noya hadn’t quite mastered the art of gentle touches—on the back and telling him to “hang in there.” Hinata was quiet and noncommittal which was perhaps the most concerning reaction. Even Kageyama had spun around after Tsukki missed a toss, taken one look at his face, and quickly swallowed whatever insult he’d been cooking up.

All through practice he’d felt like a specimen under a microscope—constantly observed and inescapably seen. It was all side eyes and concerned glances and prying questions, and it made him want to scream. Usually he could have shut that shit down with an icy glare or two, but apparently his withering expressions didn’t have the same bite when he was this exhausted.

Yamaguchi’s reaction was the worst though, mostly because he was the most concerned. All day, he hovered around Tsukki, constantly buzzing in his periphery like a particularly fretful bumble bee. Worse still, he’d been completely unfocused during practice, missing serve after serve and not even seeming to _care_.

Tsukki knew Yamaguchi was dying to ask him what was wrong, but he did _not_ want to talk to him. Talking would mean explaining and explaining would mean discussing the insomnia and the reason for the insomnia. And the reason for his insomnia was currently relegated to a box in a forgotten corner of his mind—a thoroughly sealed and duct taped box that Tsukki had no intention of ever opening.

To his credit, Yamaguchi didn’t say anything, but Tsukki could tell he desperately wanted to. Every time he looked over, Yamaguchi’s brow was furrowed, and his eyes were scanning him as though he were trying to solve a riddle. Tsukki could practically feel the worry seeping out of him.

And all day, whenever he looked over at that worried, probing expression, Tsukki’s gut clenched with guilt. It felt like lying. It felt like he was hiding something.

And all day he just kept telling himself that he _wasn’t_ hiding anything. He _wasn’t_ keeping things from his best friend. Nothing was wrong. He just couldn’t sleep. Tonight, he would sleep, and the situation would be rectified.

But now, it was 1:17am, and he was staring at the ceiling _again_ because he couldn’t sleep _again_. And he could feel hot tears of frustration and exhaustion pricking at the corners of his eyes.

Normally he would berate himself for such an outsized reaction to some mild insomnia…but he was too tired. He was _so_ tired. He had reached his limit. Physically, mentally, emotionally—he was done, strung out, desperate. And he just wanted to sleep. He needed to sleep. He needed calm. Calm. If he could just calm his mind, he could sleep. What made him feel calm?

That time, the first time, it was an accident.

The phone was in his hand without him deciding to pick it up. And he was dialing as though in a trance. And then the phone was ringing, and he almost hung up after the 3rd ring because _oh my God what the hell am I doing?_ But just as he frantically fumbled for the “end call” button, the line picked up.

“Tsukki?”

Tsukki gasped in shock and fumbled to keep from dropping his phone. He could feel his cheeks burning, and he burrowed into his blankets to hide from his own shame. Two thoughts ricocheted around his mind: One, he had called Yamaguchi at one in the morning, apparently subconsciously because he definitely didn’t remember deciding to do that. And, two, he had woken Yamaguchi up.

_Well, duh, you idiot. It’s 1 in the morning_.

Of course he had woken him up. But it only hit him when he heard Yamaguchi’s voice—husky and dark, lower than normal, the voice of a man still half-asleep. 

It was an oddly appealing voice.

The sound of it made Tsukki’s gut twist and his heart clench (a reaction he quickly decided to chalk up to some weird quirk of his insomnia-riddled brain). Whether by his own actions or the sound of that voice he didn’t know, but he was too stunned to speak. He just gripped his phone too tightly in his trembling hands as silence stretched between them.

“Tsukki?” Yamaguchi repeated, a little louder and with a definite edge of worry now.

He sighed weekly, “Gomen, Yamaguchi. I didn’t mean to wake you up. I was just…” he trailed off. What exactly was a legitimate excuse for calling your best friend at 1 in the morning with no pressing reason?

_What the hell are you doing?_

“Is everything alright?” he definitely sounded worried now. Tsukki could hear the rustle of covers on the other side of the phone and could almost see Yamaguchi sitting up, pulling his knees into his chest, hunching over the phone with a furrowed brow. He’d woken him up, and now he was making him worry (making him worry _again_ since he had already made him worry all day).

“Yeah, yeah…I’m sorry…I just,” _I just wanted to hear your voice because you’re the only thing I can think of that calms me down_ seemed a bit on the nose.

“I just can’t sleep,” he said instead.

“Mmmm,” Yamaguchi hummed his assent, clearly not surprised. “You wanna talk for a bit?” he asked.

Tsukki breathed out another deep sigh. This was dumb. This was weak and extremely lame and dumb. But, yes, he did want to talk.

“Okay.”

“Wanna talk about why you can’t sleep or—”

“No!” he barked, but Yamaguchi chuckled gently in response.

And then, just like that, he was chattering away. His voice had returned to its normal register, and the worry was gone. In fact, he sounded exactly the way he would have if Tsukishima were standing next to him. He talked about the same stuff too: volleyball, his classes, the new Pokémon he’d caught earlier today. It was the kind of mindless chatter that Tsukki usually found a bit bothersome, but right now it felt lovely—Yamaguchi’s gentle, unguarded voice humming quietly in his ear. His hands slowly stopped trembling, and he could feel himself starting to relax into the mattress.

He only responded occasionally, chipping in halfhearted quips about the volleyball idiots or his feelings about that essay due Friday. But mostly, he just listened. It was nice. It was _normal_.

God, he hadn’t felt normal in days.

It did feel a little different though. In this context, in the wee hours of the morning, their dumb, inane conversations, whispered in sleep-heavy voices—it felt different. Cozy. Intimate.

Tsukki could hear the occasional scratch of fabric against the phone and the half-muffled sound of Yamaguchi’s voice and could imagine his friend burrowed into his sheets now, curled on his side much the same way as himself.

His mind flicked almost reflexively back to their sleepovers as little kids when they would curl under the blankets like this and tell scary stories. Almost always, it turned into a competition to see who could make the other the most scared. Tsukki usually won. Granted, he mostly just retold the plots of horror movies his brother had secretly let him watch. But Yamaguchi didn’t need to know that, and they almost always scared him shitless. Tsukki could remember the satisfaction of listening as Yamaguchi’s breaths gradually came faster and faster and watching as his eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. Then sometimes, when he got really scared, he would squeak and cover his face with his hands, and Tsukki would smirk down at him, reveling in his victory.

They would stay under the covers then, just until Yamaguchi’s breathing slowed back to normal. It was safe under the covers. Their knees would bump gracelessly together as they vied for space in the little blanket fort, relaxing together in cozy silence.

It was a nice memory.

It was also the type of memory Tsukki would normally shoo away, embarrassed at the sentimentality. But right now, he was too tired to bother.

Instead, he let himself nestle into the drone of Yamaguchi’s voice, husky again with sleepiness, and into the image of him and the memory of them huddled together and how warm he would feel if he were here now, beside him in his bed.

“Tsukki?”

He jerked roughly, scrambling to keep the phone from dropping out of his hand, “Yeah?”

“I was gonna ask if you were asleep, but I guess not.”

“If I was asleep, I wouldn’t be able to answer.”

Yamaguchi chuckled lightly, “True, true…Gomen, Tsukki.”

A beat of silence and then, “Do you…do you want me to hang up?”

“…no…” Tsukki said.

Tsukki heard the voice on the other end of the line take in a deep breath and blow it out shakily.

“I mean…” his eyes were closing again now. He was almost asleep. He just needed—

“Could you stay on the line for a few minutes? Just until I fall asleep?” he whispered, and his voice sounded weird to his ears—small and vulnerable and young.

Another deep breath and then, “Sure, Tsukki. I’ll just keep talking, ok?”

Tsukki hummed in response, already feeling the veil of sleep slipping over him.

The second time had been less of an accident.

He awoke Tuesday morning with drool drying on his chin and a case of bedhead so bad it reminded him forcibly of Hinata. But he felt good. Really good. It was maybe the best night’s sleep he’d every had! His whole body, his whole mind felt renewed, reinvigorated. All morning, he had to suppress the mortifying urge to hum aloud.

Yamaguchi, thankfully, made no mention of the previous night’s encounter. He looked relieved when he saw Tsukki that morning—finally confirming with his own eyes that Tsukki had indeed gotten some sleep—but he didn’t say anything. He merely smiled goofily at Tsukki the way he always did and launched into conversation.

Tsukki was grateful. The only thing that could ruin his good mood would be talking about last night. He didn’t want to examine it or rehash it or even think about it.

Yup, not thinking about things was the best plan. Don’t think. Just be happy and feel good for a while.

_Was that so much to ask?_

He actually succeeded in that through most of the day. He floated through his classes, through practice. He was pretty sure Yamaguchi was having a good day too. His smiles seemed to come even easier than normal, and he had a familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. It was an established fact of their friendship—unspoken but understood by both parties—that, when Tsukki was in a rare good mood, Yamaguchi would attempt use it to his advantage. And Tsukki would let him. 

This time, he managed to finagle Tsukki into buying them both an ice-pop on the walk home. It was a simple prize, but Yamaguchi seemed to revel in it nonetheless. He kept grinning up at Tsukki with that impish grin that made Tsukki walk to punch him but also, for some reason, made him flush with affection. 

“They’re going to melt before we can even eat them,” Tsukki groused (though he was already turning into the store).

“Yeah, but they’ll feel nice since it’s so hot out.” Yamaguchi replied brightly.

And that was that. Yamaguchi offered to pay, but Tsukishima just “tsk-ed.” It hardly cost anything anyway.

By the end of the day, Tsukki had come down to earth a bit, but he still felt infinitely relieved. Turns out all he needed to banish his brother’s curse was a good night’s sleep. Who knew?

But it appeared his exorcism had been incomplete because by 12:34am he was staring at the ceiling and starting to realize that sleep wasn’t on the horizon.

The idea of another restless night made his chest clench and his heart race. He shouldn’t be so afraid. It was insomnia, not a physical threat. But he couldn’t stop it. It felt like a palpable thing, that fear, bearing down on him, threatening to overwhelm him.

So, he called again, this time aware he was doing so. Even so, it was still excusable. He wasn’t as desperate as the night before, but a crisis was certainly pending. It was alright.

“Hey, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi’s voice sounded a bit surprised, but less confused than it had last night. It also didn’t have the deep, husky sound it possessed last night. (Tsukki found himself feeling a bit disappointed at this realization) So, maybe that meant he hadn’t woken him up this time?

“Hey”

“Can’t sleep again?”

“Yeah”

“Ok, so, I was thinking about training camp, and I’m thinking I want to focus on improving my receiving and blocking. I don’t think I’ll ever be a great spiker, but, if I can back my serves up with some defense, maybe I can stay in the games longer?”

Tsukishima couldn’t help but smile broadly as he relaxed into his sheets.

The third time…well, the third (and fourth and fifth and sixth) time had been a deliberate decision.

By this point, he could probably fall asleep on his own if he tried. The past few days of practice had been long and brutal in preparation for summer training camp, and by the end of each day his muscles were heavy and his eyes cottony with sleep. He’d even successfully managed to keep his brother’s accusations locked away for a while. But…he slept better when he fell asleep listening to Yamaguchi. And, though it felt weird to admit, he wanted to hear Yamaguchi’s voice. He specifically wanted to hear his voice like this—curled comfortably in their beds, voices hushed, distance and darkness providing a convenient cover from having to think too hard. It was intoxicating.

And Yamaguchi? Well, Yamaguchi didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. By the 4th night he didn’t even bother asking any questions. He just launched into conversation, mostly about training camp.

So, if it was nice and it didn’t bother Yamaguchi, what was the problem?

All their conversations went much like the first with Yamaguchi doing most of the speaking and Tsukki contributing only occasionally. But…well, the listening was nice. The conversation—Yamaguchi’s low sleepy voice—filled him with a pleasant, warm buzz.

It was similar to the way he sometimes felt when they sat side-by-side, knees and shoulders pressed close. His analytical mind wondered what the connection was between the two activities: sitting close to Yamaguchi and talking to Yamaguchi late at night? But, as he had recently discovered, it was best not to think about these things.

Yup, no thinking. Not thinking was truly an excellent plan.

“So anyway, I was thinking we could go together, if you wanted?”

Tsukki shook himself awake, realizing belatedly that he hadn’t been listening and in fact, had almost been asleep.

“Mmm?” he mumbled, struggling to form words. “Gomen…was asleep I think.” He scrubbed at his eyes, “What were you saying?”

“Oh um,” Tsukki perked up at Yamaguchi’s tone—high pitched and tense but excited. His words came out in a rush, “Well, remember how we were talking earlier about that new exhibit in the paleontology wing of the museum? The one with all the new pterodactyl skeletons and the research and stuff?”

Tsukki hummed his assent. He did remember, distinctly. The exhibit was a big deal. _Paleontology Today_ had done a write up and everything. (Tsukki knew because he had clipped out that particular article and shoved it in a folder in his desk.)

Yamaguchi had an uncle or cousin or something that worked at the Natural Museum of Science and History—a fact Tsukki had long been jealous of. So, he often had insider information about new exhibits and things. He’d been feeding Tsukki details about the pterodactyl display for weeks. In turn, Tsukki had been sharing all the new research with Yamaguchi. It was set to open in mid-September, and opening week, in addition to the standard displays, the museum was hosting lectures from some of the major researchers involved.

Yamaguchi was one of only a handful of people—the only person outside of his immediate family, actually—who new of Tsukishima’s desire to be a museum curator and of his deep interest in all things paleontology.

“Well, my cousin actually managed to get some extra tickets to the opening day, and earlier—while you were asleep, I guess—I was saying that we could go together if you like? I know it’s like really far, but we could take the train early, and my cousin said we could spend the night, or we could just come back late that night. I looked it up and there’s a train that leaves super late and…”

Words kept tumbling out of him, but Tsukki couldn’t keep track.

_He got tickets?! To opening day?!_

“How—” he interrupted, “—isn’t your cousin like a low-level intern? How did you…how did he get tickets?”

“Ah,” Yamaguchi chuckled nervously. Tsukki could practically see him rubbing the back of his neck the way he did when he was embarrassed, “I mean…I’ve kinda been bugging Hayato about it for a while now. And I guess I wore him down? I think he had to sweet talk one of his bosses or something, and the tickets cost a little extra than normal—”

“Tickets? Wait, Yamaguchi how much did you spend on this?” Tsukki’s mind was frantically trying to calculate the cost of museum tickets, the premium that was apparently tacked on for opening day, plus the cost of a train ride to and from, “I can split it with you.”

Yamaguchi chuckled again, “Ah, no…no, it’s fine. I figured…I mean I've been saving some of the money from Shimada Mart. And, you know, I figured since it’s like really close to your birthday that this would just be kinda my birthday present to you?”

He nearly whispered the last sentence, nerves very apparent in his tone now.

“Yes! Yeah, yes, we should go!” Tsukki burst out. His face felt warm, and he was sure Yamaguchi could hear the very uncool amount of excitement in his voice. He cleared his throat, willing his tone back to something more neutral.

“Yeah, that sounds,” _awesome, amazing, like a dream come true_ , “nice.”

Tsukki could hear Yamaguchi’s smile through the phone, “Yeah?”

Tsukki nodded before realizing Yamaguchi couldn’t see him and huffed out an excited, “Yeah.”

Yamaguchi’s laugh was full and musical, “Awesome!"

He sounded so genuinely happy that Tsukki couldn't help but smile, silently grateful no one was here to see what he was sure was an especially large and dopey grin. 

Every night afterward they fell asleep whispering excitedly about the trip to the museum, and eventually, Tsukki stopped wondering about why he liked falling asleep to Yamaguchi's voice so much. And gradually, the late-night conversations became just another facet of their friendship—habitual and expected and uniquely ordinary—just like everything else. 


	4. Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Training camp throws a wrench in Tsukki's routine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's been reading and following this story. Your support is amazing <3 :-)
> 
> This chapter is a bit slow, but next chapter is really long and has a bit more action. I should have the next chapter up in a few days. It's mostly written already.  
> Enjoy!

"Dumbass, Hinata!"

Tsukki could hear Kageyama yelling even through his headphones. He turned the volume up and squeezed his eyes tighter shut. But seconds later a resounding "thud!" echoed through the sleep hall, and he felt the floor next to him shake dramatically.

"Ow! Kageyamaaaaaaaa!"

He squinted to see Hinata sprawled on the floor—arms askew and ass in the air—and Kageyama standing over him, red-faced and huffing.

"Who jumps on top of someone without warning, you dumbass!?"

"Who body slams people like that when they try to jump on your back?!"

"Oi, dumbasses," two red-faced glares turned from glaring at each other to glare instead at Tsukki—Hinata flopping listlessly onto his side as he did so, "some of us are trying to relax. _R e l a x_ ," he said the word slowly, stretching the syllables as though talking to a toddler, "maybe try doing that instead of wrestling like crazed chimps?"

He heard a familiar snicker behind him and turned to catch Yamaguchi's eye. He'd just returned from the showers, skin still pink from the steam. A towel was draped around his shoulders, catching the drips rolling off his damp hair. Tsukki was always mildly amused by Yamaguchi's post-shower hair. No matter how wet it got, his cowlick always stuck out defiantly above the rest. It seemed unaffected by gravity.

( _Fritillaria imperialis_ , Tsukki's mind provided, unprompted.)

"Guys," Ennoshita's voice carried all the way across the sleep hall, "We're about to turn the lights off, so try and settle down, ok? We wanna be in good form for tomorrow."

"Hai," Hinata and Kageyama droned in unison—seemingly instantly forgetting their tiff—and set about rolling out their futons. 

"Did they have to sleep next to us?" Tsukki muttered, pulling off his headphones as Yamaguchi plopped down next to him. 

Yamaguchi shrugged, face disappearing momentarily as he scrubbed his towel over his head, emerging a few seconds later with a crown of fly-aways. "I think Hinata liked the idea of all the second years sleeping near each other."

"Whatever," Tsukki grunted, turning to stare at Kageyama and Hinata and raising his voice slightly, "If they bicker all night, I'll kill them." 

Hinata didn't seem to hear him, but Kageyama met his gaze and flipped him the bird before stiffly shoving himself under his covers. Yamaguchi snickered again and settled himself under his own blankets. Suddenly—at what Tsukki assumed was exactly 10:00—Ennoshita flicked the lights off, and darness blanketed the room. 

Tsukki sighed and sank limply into his bed. He was feeling a bit antsy and had wanted to listen to some music to calm his mind before trying to sleep. But, as per usual, the idiots had found a way to screw up his plans.

He didn't know why he felt so out of sorts. The first few days of training camp had gone well enough. They were midway through the week, and while the atmosphere was, predictably, a bit too energetic for Tsukki's tastes, he was having a good enough time. It was undeniable that playing against so many high-level teams was a valuable experience. And though training camps made him obnoxiously tired, they were far from boring. With so many different teams and strategies and play styles to observe his mind was constantly engaged—absorbing and processing everything he saw.

Camp did have a bit of a different feel this year. Primarily thanks to the absence of Bokuto and Kuroo, things were a bit less chaotically intense and a little more focused. A small part of him (a _very_ small part) kind of missed the crazy 3rd years from last year. The were unquestionably talented and not _entirely_ unpleasant company. But this was more of a natural habitat for him, and he felt like he was improving rapidly. They'd even managed to win some matches this time around which was certainly more fun than losing constantly had been.

He'd even agreed to block spikes for Akaashi, Lev, and Hinata during free practice without complaining (that much). Lev and Hinata were nuisances, but skilled ones, and he actually kind of liked Akaashi. The boy had a serious, thoughtful presence that appealed to him.

By all accounts, he _should_ be having a fun time. And he was! But ever since they got here, he'd felt...uneasy, restless—like his veins were filled with something fizzy, bubbling and roiling beneath the surface. It felt like he was waiting for something, anticipating something, but what, he didn't know. His mind was too preoccupied to really focus on it during the day, but at night...

Every day left him so very, completely tired—so tired he swore his _bones_ were sore. But regardless, the feeling surged to the forefront when he laid down to sleep. and though he thankfully wasn't dealing with the same wretched insomnia as last week, it took ages for his mind to unwind, to settle enough to fall asleep.

He grimaced into his pillow, annoyed at the energy still thrumming through his veins. Before two weeks ago, he'd never had any problems with his sleep. Falling asleep, staying asleep, getting enough sleep—none of it had every been an issue.

He'd never take that for granted again.

Their first night here he'd realized, rather exasperatedly, that relying on Yamaguchi to fall asleep these past few weeks had probably been a mistake since camp had cut him off from his new coping mechanism cold turkey. 

Given that recent track record he probably should have predicted that, in the end, it would be Yamaguchi who rescued him again.

"Psst, Tsukki," the softest of whispers hissed from behind him.

He turned to see Yamaguchi watching him, covers pulled up under his nose, still-damp hair splayed comically across his pillow. 

"Are you alright? You're not having trouble sleeping again, are you?" he asked.

Tsukki shook his head and then shrugged, gaze resting on one of the fly-aways bobbing next to Yamaguchi's ear as he talked. 

"Not the same way. Too much weird energy...I think the idiots infected me with their freakish stamina," he answered.

He couldn't see Yamaguchi's mouth with the way his covers were arranged, but Tsukki new the way his freckles folded signaled a small smile. He scooted his futon closer to Tsukki's so that the edges overlapped, seeming to blend into one larger bed.

It was a move meant to keep them from being overheard, to prevent their teammates from waking up. Nevertheless, something about the move made Tsukki's pulse begin to tap out of time, frantic, as though he had just come off the court.

When Yamaguchi spoke again it was so soft Tsukki had to curl even closer just to hear him, their faces now only inches apart. When he spoke, Tsukki could feel his breath ghosting across his face, "When I was really little...before you, I mean. I used to have a lot of nightmares, and it was hard to fall asleep."

Before you.

In all their years of friendship, they had never really talked about Yamaguchi's childhood before they met. But Tsukki had gleaned enough over the years and seen enough firsthand. Anxiety and terror had been running themes for Yamaguchi back then. He knew that. But when they were kids, the thought never really bothered him. It was just a fact of Yamaguchi's life, sad maybe, but unchangeable and therefore not worth worrying about. But lately, the topic of Yamaguchi's pre-Tsukki childhood sent a pang of anger—hot and bitter—shooting through him.

_Weird, when did that start happening?_

"My mom would come sit in my room with me," he continued, "and pet my head or hold my hand until I fell asleep."

Tsukki's pulse upped its frantic rhythm, dancing nervously beneath his skin. He kept his eyes trained resolutely on the little wisp of hair by Yamaguchi's ear, though in his periphery he could see a slight blush creeping across the other boy's face.

_Where in the world was this going?_

Seeming to sense the implications of what he just said, Yamaguchi's next words came out in a rush, "But she also taught me how to help myself, too. For when she couldn't be there."

Tsukki released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, relieved Yamaguchi wasn't about to suggest petting his head like a scared child.

"She todl me to pick something, anything, to focus on. Like how soft the blankets were or the sound of the crickets outside or whatever. And then I would just, like, focus on the feeling? And on trying to breath really, really slowly. And eventually, I'd fall asleep. Shimada-san taught me something similar, too, for during games. It us...it helps."

He stopped talking then, and Tsukki met his gaze for the first time in their conversation. He was close enough that Tsukki could see his every feature even without his glasses. Immediately, he wished that weren't the case.

The dim light through the windows made his face almost glow a pale, bluish color. His freckles were dark splotches of midnight blue against that backdrop, pinpoints of dakness on a glowing canvas, like inverted stars. 

Tsukki could count them were he so inclined.

It was his eyes though, that knocked the wind out of Tsukki. With half his face still covered in blankets, they looked even bigger than normal, huge, dark, chocolately pools that threatened to swallow him whole. He was looking at Tsukki's face with such earnestness—expectant and waiting but also unreasonably tender.

Tsukki couldn't say anything.

He couldn't even breathe properly.

Something about this whole situation—this unfamiliar place, the heavy weight in his body from a day of exertion, the restlessness in his veins, those wild flyaways, the closeness of Yamaguchi's face to his own—it was all too much. But the worst was that look—so open and honest and quintessentially _Yamaguchi._ It was unbearable.

Deep down he knew that this was (or at least _should be_ ) an entirely normal situation, an entirely normal conversation with his best friend. Yet, he was suddenly feeling a lot of suspiciously sappy and certainly uncool things that he didn't fully understand. Affection was coursing through him almost as forcefully as his earlier restlessness, and his heartbeat was ringing in his ears. It was such an outsized reaction to such a simple, mundane conversation. It didn't make any sense.

But he didn't have time to worry about whether it made sense or not. It wasn't an emotion he should be having. It especially wasn't an emotion he should be having _here_ and _now_ in this wide-open hall surrounded by the sighs and snores of their teammates. He was so close to Yamaguchi, and felt dangerously exposed. 

If he could read all these emotions painted so clearly on Yamaguchi's face, what would Yamaguchi see in him?

Forcefully, Tsukki broke the look. He rolled over, yanking his blankets with him. He shoved his face into his pillow and wrapped himself up so that even his back was shielded from Yamaguchi's gaze. 

It was a bit of a dick move. He knew that. But he prayed Yamaguchi would take the hint.

He should say something. Yamaguchi was just trying to help him after all. But, well, he was used to Tsukki's moods by now. He'd get over it.

After several anxious moments, he heard Yamaguchi sigh, maybe a little exasperatedly, and then felt the futon jostle slightly as he separated their beds. A few long, quit minutes later and he heard Yamaguchi's breathing begin to even out and deepen.

Only when he was absolutely certain that his friend was asleep did Tsukki allow himself to breathe freely. He scrubbed his hand over his face in frustrated and stifled an exasperated groan.

This was ridiculous.

He was acting weird—had _been_ acting weird—for weeks now, and it was starting to become a legitimate problem.

Maybe he needed to rethink his approach, switch up his strategy. When you were in a game and one strategy kept failing you, you changed to a new plan. It was basic common sense. So why couldn't he apply that to himself? He'd been avoiding thinking about this...this...whatever this was. The weird feelings. The things Akiteru had said. The odd way his body kept reacting to routine situations. 

He was a strategist, a tactician. He should be able to look calmly at his problems and evaluate them, come up with a plan of attack.

But somehow this thing, whatever it was, felt dangerous, too volatile and precarious to risk examining. He didn't know why, but he felt that if he opened this particular can of worms, it would blow up in his face.

So, he was trapped, at least for the time being, at least until he could figure out a strategy, a way to approach the problem without incurring damage. 

He was trapped.

And he couldn't sleep.

Again.

The minutes ticked by until Tsukki was convinced he was the last one awake.

He was reluctant to use Yamaguchi's trick. It seemed...disrespectful, somehow, to snub the boy and then rely on him, even indirectly, for help. 

But...well, he really needed to sleep.

First, he focused on his breathing. In and out. In and out. Slow and even. He imagined the oxygen flowing through him, from his ears to his toes, wrapping around all his tired muscles, reinvigorating them.

Already he felt his body beginning to slump further into the bed.

Next, he needed to pick a focal point, a feeling or a sound, something outside himself to concentrate on. He was drawn immediately to the soft rumble of Yamaguchi's snores beside him. They hardly counted as snores, really—deep dramatic breaths in followed by a moment of silence that almost seemed to last too long and then a faint whistle as he breathed out. It was a weirdly comforting sound, familiar from nearly a decade of sleepovers and training camps. 

So, without giving it too much thought, he focused on those gentle, familiar sounds and moments later, drifted off to sleep. 

Morning brought guilt.

Tsukki didn't generally worry about other people's feelings, but Yamaguchi was the one exception. He felt bad for shutting down their conversation the night before so abruptly. He felt even worse about using Yamaguchi's trick despite his rude behaviour, and worse still for using Yamaguchi's snoring of all things as his point of focus. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had violated his friend's trust somehow, used a part of him without his consent. 

But still, it felt weird to apologize. Tsukki wasn't even sure how he would phrase such a thing. _Sorry for freaking out when you were just trying to give me some advice? Sorry for keeping you up every night? Sorry for using you to fall asleep?_

It was impossible.

Nonetheless, on their way out the door toward the dining hall, he grabbed Yamaguchi's sleeve, pulling him back just far enough from the others so they wouldn't overhear. 

His friend looked up at him, but Tsukki kept his gaze firmly focused on a spot on the floor. 

"Yeah, Tsukki?" he asked. He didn't _sound_ upset, and Tsukki briefly considered jumping ship. But no, he should say something.

After a too-long moment of chewing the inside of his cheek he finally forced out, "Thanks. For the advice. It helped."

He chanced a glance at Yamaguchi's face then, expecting to see a look of annoyance or maybe confusion. 

Instead, he was greeted with the widest, happiest grin imaginable.

"Sure thing, Tsukki!" Yamaguchi said, his voice unreasonably bubbly. 

Tsukki stared unblinkingly at Yamaguchi's face. 

_Had he missed something?_

He hadn't even apologized really, and he wasn't sure what about his lame "thank you" could warrant such outsized elation. 

"Sorry if I kept you up."

Yamaguchi shook his head, and suddenly, he was the one looking away from Tsukki's face. "I don't mind," his tone was almost shy, "You uh...you always help me. Like when I'm sad or nervous or whatever. It's nice to be the one to help you every once and a while."

With that, he shrugged, spun on his heal, and continued toward the dining hall. It took Tsukki several long moments to regain enough composure to follow him. 


	5. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsukki has some anxiety at a bonfire and is forced to talk about it by Kuroo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Trigger warning* for mild underage drinking as well as descriptions of a panic attack. If you want to skip the panic attack, when you get to the words "he was up out of his seat" skip to "after several minutes of silence."
> 
> There's also a bit of language that could be interpreted as mildly homophobic. It's mostly a reflection of Tsukki struggling to accept who he is, but if you're sensitive to that stuff just skip this one. Always take care of yourself first, please!

The night air here is cooler than in Miyagi but still warm enough that a fire shouldn't feel pleasant. Somehow it does, though. Hot, dry air on his face contrasts pleasingly with cooler, wetter air on his back. And there's a sort of weightless warmth in his veins that he's pretty sure has something to do with the half-empty beer in his hand.

Tsukki hadn't wanted to come. It sounded like it would be a combination of things he hated—excessive heat, rowdy drunk people, and not sleeping when he's thoroughly exhausted. Eventually, though, Yamaguchi had worn him down (mostly by promising to have his mom bake them her famous strawberry shortcake when he came over next weekend). That was the trouble with best friends—they knew your weaknesses. 

So he'd come, begrudgingly, but he'd come. 

He's not exactly sure how the 3rd years had gotten the coaches to sign off on this—a late night bonfire with well over half the entire training camp. Though he suspects it had involved some very solemn promises that absolutely no one would get into trouble. A contingent of them—Akaashi and Ennoshita primarily—seemed to be acting as de facto chaperones. They'd hidden the drink coolers in the woods somewhere and were carefully doling out drinks, taking great care to keep everyone from getting _too_ drunk. (To Tsukki's endless amusement, they'd cut Hinata off after only half a beer.) Thanks to their efforts, everyone seemed to have worked up a pleasant buzz, but no one was vomiting or throwing punches which automatically made this shindig superior to some of the lame college parties Akiteru had dragged him to. 

He wasn’t exactly _participating_ in the partying. (He’d agreed to come, but he drew the line at mingling.) He’d talked briefly with Akaashi about the merits of guess versus read blocking, but otherwise, he was content to keep to himself.

To his surprise, however, he wasn't nearly as bored as he'd expected to be. Truthfully, he was kind of enjoying himself. He had a great view of the whole clearing from his seat near the tree line. And there were plenty of shenanigans to observe. Plus, his teammates' antics—usually so grating and troublesome—were much more entertaining when they weren't disrupting practice.

Someone (the managers probably) had supplied an obscene amount of marshmallows, and everyone (Tsukki included) had had far too many at this point. Burnt marshmallows littered the ground just inside the fire, black and smoldering like sugary bits of coal. Across the way, Hinata and Kageyama—both embarrassingly buzzed on the miniscule amount of alcohol in their systems—were engaged in a marshmallow eating contest, maintaining terrifying eye contact as they shoveled sticky squares into their mouths, cheeks puffed out like deranged chipmunks. 

Tsukki was betting they'd both hurl before the night was up. 

Noya and Tanaka had instigated some kind of dance off—there was no music, of course, but that didn't seem to be an issue for them—against some first years from Fukurodani and were jumping and thrashing energetically. The light from the fire cast them in mesmerizing shades of orange and red as they bobbed in and out of Tsukki's vision through the smoke.

The managers were huddled to one side, sipping their drinks slowly, chatting and giggling somewhat conspiratorially. And other players were gathered in little clumps throughout the clearing.

The Nekoma setter (Kenma, was it?) was perched on a log to Tsukki's right, hunched over his DS but glancing up occasionally to check in on the marshmallow eating contest. He was a hard one to read, but Tsukki was fairly certain he detected a glint of fond bemusement beneath his placid features. 

Yamaguchi, meanwhile, was flitting from group to group amicably, apparently enjoying the chatter and chaos. Fire and alcohol had seemingly banished any of his usual shyness, and he settled easily into conversation with every group he approached. Watching him, Tsukki felt he finally comprehended the idea of a "social butterfly." He also wondered vaguely if this was the type of confidence Yamaguchi wished he had when he wasn't buzzed.

Whenever he grew tired of socializing, he would pick his way back over to Tsukki, plopping down beside him on the big stump they'd chosen as a seat. At the moment, he was leaned against Tsukki's shoulder, giggling tipsily as he recounted some story about some Nekoma player that Tsukki really didn't care about. 

His breath smelled more of marshmallows than booze—sweet in an almost sickly way—and the heat and alcohol had painted his cheeks a stark, cherry red. His freckles stood out dramatically against the bright backdrop. His hair tickled Tsukki's neck as he talked, but, for whatever reason, Tsukki didn't really mind. Plus, it smelled nice—spicy like smoke and clean like shampoo.

Smiles and laughter seemed to come freely to Yamaguchi tonight. He seemed happy, really happy.

And Tsukki didn't know whether it was the alcohol in his veins, the jovial atmosphere, or just Yamaguchi's happiness bleeding out onto him, but he was feeling pretty happy at the moment, too. 

Just then a familiar, "Hey hey hey!" came booming from the shadows directly behind them. Startled, Tsukki jumped dramatically, sloshing a bit of his beer over himself and Yamaguchi.

Instantly feeling a lot less relaxed and a lot more aggravated, he turned to glare at the two tall silhouettes emerging from the woods.

"Bokuto!" Hinata called from across the clearing, his voice muffled slightly by the marshmallows in his cheeks. He didn't even bother to swallow—cheeks still puffed, looking in every respect like an orange-haired chipmunk—as he launched himself toward the newcomers. 

"Hey protege," Bokuto said, ruffling Hinata's hair affectionately, "learn any new killer moves lately?"

"Kuroo," a softer, gentler voice said, and Tsukki glanced to see Kenma looking up at his former teammate, DS momentarily forgotten. His expression was still largely unreadable, but Tsukki could detect the smallest of blushes spreading across his cheeks.

"Surprise," Kuroo said, meeting Kenma's gaze, his lips curling into a tiny, almost secretive smile.

Kenma's blush deepened at the look.

Shouts of greeting and surprise echoed through the clearing as all the partygoers reacted to the new arrivals. Apparently, Akaashi had clued the two visitors in on the bonfire, and, since they both lived nearby, they'd decided to pay a visit. Several people made their way over to them, clapping Bokuto on the back, patting Kuroo's shoulders, and asking about the state of their respective university teams. 

As the chaos subsided (or rather, returned to the previous chaotic equilibrium), Bokuto darted across the clearing to join in the dance off, and Kuroo settled himself on the log next to Kenma. 

Yamaguchi dropped back down next to Tsukki and began chatting with Kuroo and Kenma.

Tsukki sighed and took a long swig from his beer, trying to regain the calm he'd had a moment ago. But he was annoyed now—annoyed at Kuroo and Bokuto for startling him and apparently ruining his mood in the process. He couldn't seem to relax properly again, and he felt anger and frustration steadily building in his veins. Worse still, that antsy feeling was back—pins and needles of restless anticipation pricking beneath his skin.

He knew it wasn't completely fair to blame the newcomers for his weird reactions.

He wasn't gonna let that stop him, though. 

He finished his beer as he sat stewing in his frustration. The chaos of the party was suddenly a lot less entertaining and a lot more overwhelming. Every laugh and shout made him tense slightly, as though he were bracing to receive a killer serve. The smoke that had seemed so mesmerizing moments ago was now stinging his eyes and crowding his lungs. He was rapidly getting overheated, too, all at once aware of how hot the fire was on his face and of Yamaguchi's cloying body heat next to him. 

_This party blows_.

Also, Kuroo and Kenma were acting really weird, and Tsukki shouldn't care. But it was starting to really get on his nerves. 

For one, Kuroo was sitting far too close to Kenma, closer even than Tsukki and Yamaguchi were. Closer than friends, even best friends, normally would. Kuroo had wrapped himself around the smaller boy, practically cocooning him in his long arms and legs, and was resting his chin on Kenma's shoulder, watching him play his game. 

For another, Kuroo kept _touching_ Kenma—ghosting his hands over the setter's arms and brushing his fingers through his hair. Tsukki knew it was none of his business. But it didn't make sense and it was _bothering_ him.

"Why are they touching like that?" he muttered under his breath to Yamaguchi.

"Hmmm?" Yamaguchi glanced at the pair and then back up at Tsukki's face, "Oh, they're dating. Hinata was talking about it last week in practice," he grinned lopsidedly up at Tsukki, "guess you weren't listening, huh?"

Dating.

Oh.

_Oh._

Well that certainly made more sense. 

_Good_ Tsukki thought _fine. Glad they're happy or whatever._

But something in his mind wouldn't let it go. There was nothing about this revelation that should be upsetting to him. Tsukki wasn't a bigot or a prude. He didn't care if two people were dating, nor did he care if those two people were boys.

He couldn't even pin down what exact emotion it was that was twisting inside him every time he looked at them. Annoyance? Frustration?...Jealousy? 

Whatever he was feeling, it was wriggling violently in his chest, bubbling bitterly beneath his skin.

He fisted his hands into the fabric of his shorts and willed himself to calm. the. fuck. down. 

But when he looked up again they were kissing, just a chaste, close-lipped, tender thing.

But it made the thing inside of Tsukki just...break.

He was up out of his seat before he knew it, feet propelling him into the woods. Away from this situation. Away from the suffocating heat and smoke. Just _away_. 

"Tsukki?" he heard Yamaguchi call after him, but he didn't respond.

He just kept plowing into the woods. Every cell in his body screamed that he needed to _go,_ _get away, run away_. 

So he just kept going and going, only hazily registering the tiny scratches of branches against his face and the sharp pains in his toes whenever he tripped over a tree root. 

It was exhausting, and, realistically, he didn't really go that deep into the forest. He could still see the bonfire pretty clearly, though the noises of the party were pretty muffled now. But his body felt like he'd been running for hours.

He finally stopped, collapsing wearily against a big, gnarled pine tree. His breathing was coming fast and heavy, and he seemed to have no control over it.

 _Hyperventilation_ his brain supplied.

Somehow knowing the term didn't lessen the effects.

He could hear his blood roaring in his ears, _feel_ his heart pounding so hard he worried it would burst. He tried to focus his mind on the present, and not on the confused rush of emotions coursing through him. He thought of Yamaguchi's advice from the night before.

A way to calm down.

He closed his eyes and concentrated: the cool breeze wicking away his sweat, the bite of the bark against his scalp, the spongy feel of the moss beneath his feet.

_Breathe. Focus. Don't think._

He tried to count his breaths, to focus on the feel of the oxygen pouring into him. Slowly, slowly he started to regain control...

The sound of someone crashing through the underbrush towards him yanked him from his momentary calm, sending his heart and breathing rates skyrocketing once more.

He was expecting Yamaguchi. Instead, when he opened his eyes, it was Kuroo standing in front of him, chest heaving from exertion and face twisted in anger.

"What the hell, Tsukishima?" he shouted bearing down on him. He was shorter than Tsukki, but only just, and his frame was substantially bigger. 

A pang of fear shot through Tsukki.

"You got some kind of problem?!" the former captain continued, his voice too loud, compounding the headache Tsukki just realized he had, "I saw you watching me and Kenma. If you've got some kind of issue, why don't you just come out with it instead of running off like a coward?"

Tsukki squeezed his eyes shut again. A million thoughts and emotions swirled through him, but he couldn't seem to name or control them. 

He'd never seen Kuroo so mad. Granted, his experience with the man was limited, but he seemed like a pretty chill guy all around. Yet here he was, glaring at Tsukki, golden eyes cold and narrowed, looking for all the world like he was about to throw a punch.

And he knew, he _knew_ he should say something, needed to say something to diffuse the situation, but his panic hadn't subsided. And his voice was stuck in his throat. And he couldn't breathe, much less form words.

He shook his head as he gulped in air, hissing it out slowly through his teeth, battling for control of his lungs. To his horror, he felt tears stinging the corners of his eyes and silently pleaded to any and all gods that may exist to keep him from crying.

_What the hell is going on with me?!_

When he opened his eyes again, Kuroo was still staring at him, face still pinched in anger, but his eyes had softened a bit, and he was scanning Tsukki's face curiously. 

He didn't seem like he was seconds away from punching him anymore. Instead, he seemed to have deduced that Tsukki couldn't currently speak and had decided to wait him out.

After several minutes of silence punctuated only by Tsukki's heavy breathing and the distant crackling of the bonfire, Tsukki gathered enough breath the speak. "I don't...I don't have a problem with you and Kenma." He met Kuroo's gaze, willing him to hear the truth in his words despite how weary and hoarse his voice sounded. "I don't know what happened. I just...I can't...I wasn't..."

_It was just too much._

_I just couldn't handle it._

_Apparently, there are a number of things I can't handle recently._

Kuroo's eyes stayed narrowed, but the tension slowly unwound from his shoulders. And when he spoke again his voice was almost gentle, "Are you ok, man?"

Tsukki groaned. Kuroo's anger had been bad (and more than a little frightening, in all honesty), but now the man wanted to talk. 

Tsukki figured he owed him an explanation. But damn did that sound exhausting. And mortifying.

He finally let his legs give, sliding down the side of the tree until he landed with a soft "thunk" on the damp moss. He covered his face with this hands, glasses pinching into the bridge of his nose. "I don't know," he mumbled embarrassedly into his palms, "apparently not."

When he pulled his hands away, Kuroo's face was inches from his own. 

"Jesus!" he shouted, jumping backward and thumping his head into the tree behind him. He glared as Kuroo laughed.

So," Kuroo asked, voice light and mirthful even as his golden eyes stayed intense and shrewd, "Why aren't you ok?"

"I told you," Tsukki answered, frustration creeping into his tone, "I don't know."

Kuroo seemed unimpressed with that answer. He just kept staring back at Tsukki, gaze heavy and unwavering. Tsukki was reminded with a shudder that this man had once been the captain of Nekoma, a team known for their intelligence and cunning. Kuroo was smart, clever, and, most importantly, patient. He was more than willing to wait for what he wanted—Nekoma had always been known for their tenacity, after all—and right now, he wanted answers from Tsukki.

_Damn cat._

"I don't know!" he repeated, but Kuroo still didn't look away, and Tsukki was starting to feel cornered—a mouse in a trap.

When he spoke again it was as though the words were pried from him against his will, "I've felt...I don't know, weird. I've felt weird for a couple weeks now," his voice was a rough and strangled thing, "and I've been dealing with it just fine. I've been _fine._ But it's been worse—or not, worse, just...different here for some reason. And then I saw you and...and Kenma and, I don't know, I just couldn't handle it, ok?!"

Kuroo gave no response. Instead, he sat silently, rubbing his chin as though deep in thought. He was still much too close. Tsukki could watch the way his brow furrowed in concentration and how his eyes darted over Tsukki's face as though hunting for clues.

He wasn't wasn't free from the trap quite yet.

"Seem like you've got anxiety, man," Kuroo muttered, more to himself than anything, "And that was definitely a panic attack. I've seen them before. But why would me and Kenma trigger that?"

He didn't seem to expect a response which was good because Tsukki didn't have one. Anxiety. It was certainly the best description of what he'd felt these past few weeks. Still though, it seemed like such an...out of character thing for him to have. Yamaguchi was the sensitive one, the one who's own emotions held him hostage sometimes. Tsukki was the calm, cool, collected one, the one who was always in control. They balanced each other out that way. 

_Well, you certainly haven't been very in control of yourself recently, have you?_

He was shocked from his thoughts by the loud "snap!" of Kuroo's fingers. He was pointing at Tsukki now, a victorious grin plastered across his face. "I've got it! You're gay, right?!"

"W-w-what?!" Tsukki practically yelled, pushing back against the tree in a futile effort to gain more space, "I'm not...I'm not _gay!_ Why does everyone think that?"

Kuroo just chuckled, looking as though Tsukki had just confirmed his suspicions instead of denying them, "Nah, dude, you're gay, and by the looks of it, _way_ in the closet."

Tsukki spluttered, "I'm...I'm not...what the hell—"

"It would explain the anxiety," Kuroo pointed out.

Tsukki scoffed, "Anxiety can come from anywhere."

"True, true. You might be right. Maybe I'm way off base, but answer me this, _Tsukki_ ," Kuroo said, emphasizing the pet name just to piss him off, "You ever like a girl before?"

This again. That didn't mean anything. Tsukki didn't particularly like most people, "I mean not really, but—"

"I'll take that as a no. You ever look at dirty pictures of a girl, think about a girl when you jack off?"

Tsukki wasn't sure if the heat spreading across his face was from embarrassment or anger, "That's none of your business! But, for your information, I don't think about guys either, dumbass—" 

_Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!_

Kuroo just shook his head and barked out a laugh.

_He's enjoying this...the bastard._

"No shit, man. I wouldn't expect you to. You seem like the type of guy who jerks off as a formality. Just to 'relieve stress' or whatever."

Tsukki refused to deign such a vulgar statement with a response (mostly because he was deeply uncomfortable with how accurate it was). 

"But let me ask you this," Kuroo leaned forward, crowding even further into Tsukki's personal space, a broad, mischievous smile plastered across his face, "I bet you _notice_ guys, right? Maybe not all the time, maybe not every guy, but you _notice_ when there's a nice-looking guy. You're _aware_ of them."

A beat of silence. Then another.

"I'm observant."

The Cheshire grin only grew more confident, "You observe girls the same way?"

The silence hung in the air like a tangible thing.

For the life of him, Tsukki couldn't figure out how in the world he had ended up in this situation—having a panic attack in the woods and talking about his sexuality with a man he barely counted as a friend. It was, definitively, the most embarrassing moment of his life, and he was perversely thankful that Yamaguchi hadn't been the one to follow him. He couldn't imagine a time where he had been less cool than he was right now.

He didn't understand why Kuroo was so interested. He understood even less why he kept answering the guy. None of this was any of his business.

He decided to blame it on the alcohol.

And on Kuroo's creepy stare. 

The silence stretched on, and his mind swirled around Kuroo's accusation. It wasn't just Kuroo, though, was it? His brother had said the same thing a few weeks ago. Were they onto something Tsukki wasn't, privy to some knowledge Tsukki didn't have? 

_Surely not. It was_ his _mind, after all._

Still, too frustrated and too drunk to fight it off, he let himself consider it, just for a moment. 

_Gay._

What would that mean? What were the implications of such a thing? He'd certainly had moments before where he'd _wondered_. He'd never been as interested in girls as other guys, never understood what the big deal was. But then again, he'd never really been interested in romantic relationships with anyone. He'd even briefly wondered once if he might be asexual, but that didn't seem right either. He couldn't be _gay,_ though. That was...he wasn't—

"I don't act like a gay guy," he blurted out, instantly cringing at how stupid that sounded.

Kuroo looked downright offended, "The hell's that supposed to mean? You think all gay guys act the same? What, like there's just one 'gay' personality and all us homos get to share it?"

"Well, no—"

"Damn right! It's a sexual orientation, not a personality. If you're attracted to dudes, you're gay. Simple as that." 

Attracted to dudes. Well, he certainly wasn't attracted to girls. That was easy enough to admit. But wait, _he_ didn't like girls, but he distinctly remembered _Kuroo_ having a very serious discussion with Bokuto once about the merits of big boobs versus little boobs. 

Tsukki remembered because they'd tried to drag him into it. Prior to this conversation, he would have counted it as the most mortifying interaction he'd every had with Kuroo.

"I though you liked girls?"

"You can like both."

"Oh." 

_Duh._

His skin crawled under Kuroo's continued attention. Tsukki was a private person. He preferred to keep things to himself. He was observant, but he didn't enjoy being observed. And yet, Kuroo seemed to know all of these intimate, private details about Tsukki's life, more than that, about his _thoughts_. It was unnerving to say the least.

Kuroo seemed to be waiting again, for confirmation probably, but Tsukki didn't really feel inclined to give it to him. (Plus, he still wasn't entirely convinced Kuroo was right.) Instead he decided on another question, a question that had, for whatever reason, been needling him ever since he saw Kuroo with Kenma.

"How did you know?" he asked.

"That I was gay?" Told you, I liked jacking off to dudes just as much as to girls."

He grimaced and shook his head.

"How did you know about Kenma. Like when did you realize that you—"

"That I'm in love with him?"

Tsukki gulped and nodded.

Kuroo hummed, his expression softening into something wistful and almost tender. "I didn't for a long time. Or I guess I did sort of? But I never really thought about it. We'd been friends since...geeze, since forever really. So, it didn't seem weird that we were so close and that we spent all our time together and stuff...I don't know, I guess I figured it out one day when I realized I really wanted to kiss him. Seemed like something you don't think about someone who's 'just a friend.'"

He shrugged then, as though having thoughts of kissing your best friend were some normal, mundane thing. 

"So," Kuroo continued, "you ready to admit I was right?"

Tsukki was certainly ready to punch him. He didn't have the energy though, so he settled on a glare. 

"I still don't know."

_You still don't know if you're gay? Or you still don't know if you're ready to admit it?_

Kuroo started to respond, but just then, a voice echoed through the woods, accompanied by the sounds of someone trudging through the underbrush towards them, "Tsukki? Where'd you go?"

Of course. He'd been gone too long. Of course Yamaguchi would come looking for him.

Kuroo rose to leave, brushing the dirt from his shorts and extending a hand to help Tsukki up, "Might wanna figure it out soon, man. Or talk to someone," his expression was downright sympathetic (which only made Tsukki feel even more annoyed. He didn't want the man's pity). "It's not healthy to carry all that around. And, take it from me—"

"There you are, Tsukki? What happened?" Yamaguchi had approached them now, glancing curiously between the two other men.

"Hey, Freckles." Kuroo said, patting Yamaguchi on the shoulder as he started to walk off. But first he turned to look Tsukki in the eye, voice low and expression serious but kind, "there's a lot of good things waiting on the other side of accepting who you are."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! This chapter was really tricky to write! It was hard to keep things interesting while also trying to describe the feeling of steadily increasing stress/anxiety and how that can sometimes spill over into panic in response to the littlest thing. 
> 
> That said, I really enjoyed writing this chapter! I hope it made sense and that you enjoyed reading it! :-)  
> Also, don't worry, happier times are ahead for our boys very soon!


	6. Same

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Coming Out Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Trigger Warning* again for some mild homophobic language/stereotypes. It really is very mild, though.
> 
> Also, this chapter is extremely fluffy and self-indulgent, but I love it <3  
> I hope you like it, too. Happy reading!

Yamaguchi's mom really did make the best strawberry shortcake. The house was full of the smell of it—a warm, heady, sugary scent that had Tsukki's mouth watering from the moment he'd walked through the door. He'd wanted a slice right away, but Mrs. Yamaguchi had insisted they wait until after dinner. Yamaguchi had to practically drag Tsukki out of the kitchen. Still, such a perfect smell was evidently too powerful to be contained because even Yamaguchi's room on the second floor smelled strongly of vanilla and strawberries.

Tsukki's stomach growled dramatically, making Yamaguchi laughed. He leaned his head back, making upside down eye contact with Tsukki from his spot on the floor.

"Your stomach only ever growls for sweets, Tsukki," he said.

"Tch—" Tsukki didn't bother offering a rebuttal...he didn't have one.

He turned his attention back to the book in his hand—something on plants of the paleolithic period he'd picked up at the library—and slumped against Yamaguchi's headboard. 

So far, everything about today was ordinary. Familiar. From the smell of strawberry shortcake to the tinny jangle of Pokémon background music blaring from Yamaguchi's Switch to the feel of his friend's worn comforter against his leg—nothing about today was noteworthy or exceptional. 

He'd walked home with Yamaguchi like normal, travel toothbrush and change of clothes tucked in his bag. Mrs. Yamaguchi had greeted them brightly at the door, just like she always did when Tsukki slept over. She'd teased Tsukki about his sweet tooth before shooing them out of the kitchen. And now, they were sitting just as they'd sat dozens of times before: Yamaguchi flopped on the floor with a pillow under him and Tsukki curled cross-legged on the bed.

There was nothing noteworthy about this day. Nothing at all. 

The only thing out of place was Tsukki's newfound knowledge that he was gay and the niggling little voice in the back of head urging him to tell Yamaguchi.

After training camp, he'd finally owned up to it. It wasn't dramatic, really. Lying in bed one night he'd just...realized, admitted to himself that he was, in fact, attracted to men and not women. Which, by definition, made him gay.

It felt a bit like he'd been caught on a technicality.

He didn't really like the word "gay." He didn't think it fit him. He'd mulled it over all week in his mind, rolled the word around on his tongue, muttered it to himself in the morning while he brushed his teeth. But it never felt right.

Maybe it would grow on him.

Maybe it never would.

It didn't matter anyway. It was just a word.

He wondered if his discomfort stemmed from the word itself or from his own hang-ups. Before this, he would have said that he didn't hold any prejudices against gay people. But this week he'd realized that he'd always, deep down, had a certain idea of what it meant to be gay, a specific vision of what a "gay person" looked and acted like.

He'd assumed (for years, he was beginning to realize) that because he didn't fit the profile of the gay person in his head (flamboyant, loud, dramatic) that he couldn't be gay. He wasn't like that. So, he was disqualified. 

But—to his unending annoyance and chagrin—Kuroo was, in fact, correct:

_"It's a sexual orientation, not a personality. If you're attracted to dudes, you're gay, simple as that."_

He'd also always thought of being gay as something that defined a person—the first and most important thing about them.

Which, in retrospect, was a pretty fucked up attitude. 

He'd expected to feel different. But the weirdest part of this week was that he hadn't. At all. He was still himself. And everything and everyone around him was the same as it had always been.

Only difference was that now he could sleep better. And he wasn't having panic attacks.

And he could admit out loud that he liked guys.

Not that he was going to.

He had absolutely no desire to tell anyone about these new revelations (especially not Kuroo, who'd somehow obtained his phone number from one of Tsukki's traitorous teammates and had been texting him all week to tease and pry).

First and foremost, none of this was anyone's business. He'd never talked about his romantic life before, and he didn't intend to start now. The idea of discussing relationships with someone like Tanaka or Nishinoya or, god forbid, Hinata made his skin crawl. 

But a smaller part of him didn't want to tell anyone because he was worried. Worried they would think of him the way he used to think of gay people—that they would define him by it.

His snark, his blocking skills, his intelligence, his general aloofness—he didn't mind being defined by any of these things. But to be categorized by the type of person he might like to kiss? Horrifying. Unacceptable.

Mostly, though, it was because this was his business and no one else's.

Except.

Well.

It _kinda_ felt like _maybe_ it was Yamaguchi's business, too.

Which didn't fully make sense.

The two of them didn't have a history of talking about dating or relationships. Yamaguchi would occasionally comment on a cute girl, and Tsukki would "tsk" boredly and change the subject. But that was about it.

Still though, not telling him felt like a lie. Tsukki wasn't exactly forthcoming with his emotions, but he never knowingly hid things from Yamaguchi. He may be a bit of an asshole sometimes, but he wasn't a _liar_. And—as much as he tried to convince himself to the contrary—not telling his best friend felt like lying.

So, he needed to tell him.

And he knew that now—when they were alone and relaxed and free from distraction—was the perfect time.

Didn't make him feel any less aggravated about it, though.

He couldn't help thinking as he sighed deeply and shut his book that sexuality crises were nothing more than a nuisance.

_May as well get this over with._

(And if there were some small, unacknowledged, fearful part of him that felt nervous and queasy about how Yamaguchi might react? Well, he just ignored it. He wasn't a liar, and he wasn't a coward either.)

"Yamaguchi?" he asked, training his eyes on the mop of greenish brown hair below him.

"Yeah, Tsukki?" Yamaguchi didn't look up from his game.

Tsukki sat up tall, trying to project his usual air of indifferent confidence despite the way his heart was hammering in his chest, "Do you remember a few weeks ago when Akiteru was asking what my "type" was?"

Yamaguchi looked up at him then, pausing his game and turning so he could meet Tsukki's eyes without twisting. He nodded, his expression unreadable. 

"Yeah well," his voice sounded shaky, even to his own ears, "that's 'cause I don't have a type of girl that I like."

Yamaguchi's expression remained impassive and thoroughly indecipherable. Honestly, it was starting to freak Tsukki out. Usually he could read Yamaguchi like a book.

"Because," he found he couldn't meet Yamaguchi's eyes, so he fixed his gaze somewhere over his left shoulder, "because I don't like girls. I like guys."

In years to come, Tsukki would staunchly claim that the seconds between his confession and Yamaguchi's answer were the longest and most unbearable of his life. He lived a thousand futures in those moments, pictured and experienced in startling detail the dozens of ways Yamaguchi might react. His every nerve burned with anticipation and worry, and he felt scared even to breathe.

But at long last, Yamaguchi spoke. His slow, "Tsu-kki," was soft and gentle. And when Tsukki met his gaze, he suddenly felt like he couldn't breathe again, now for an entirely different reason.

Yamaguchi was looking at Tsukki as though he were witnessing a miracle—big, brown eyes wide and wavering with tender wonder. 

And Tsukki didn't know how, but that expression had stolen all the air in the room.

Another long beat of silence passed between them in which they just looked at each other—eyes locked in a seemingly infinite gaze. It felt to Tsukki as though a number of things passed between them in that moment, though he couldn't name a single one of them. But he felt that, just for that one moment, they understood each other in some fundamental, all-encompassing way. 

The feeling shook him to his core, and he couldn't repress the shiver that ran up his spine.

But then, as suddenly as it had arrived, the moment broke. Tsukki watched the look on Yamaguchi's face shift to something puzzled, then relieved, then maybe angry (?).

He didn't really get to see that last look because suddenly a pillow was "thwacking" into his head with not inconsiderable force.

He yelped in shock and scrambled to keep his glasses from falling off his face.

"Tsukki!" Yamaguchi rose on his knees to kneel next to the bed, yanking the pillow he'd just thrown off Tsukki's stunned face, "is _that_ what you've been so upset about?!"

Still reeling from the sudden attack, Tsukki stuttered out, "U-u-upset...I...I haven't been—"

Yamaguchi raised the pillow to hit him again, and Tsukki grabbed his arms before he could swing. 

Clearly, Yamaguchi wasn't in the mood for lies. 

"Okay! Okay! Yeah, I didn't really realize it at first, but I think that's why I've been...weird lately."

Yamaguchi wrenched his arms free and slammed the pillow down across Tsukki's middle this time, "I've been so _worried,_ Tsukki, geez! I thought you had a disease or something. I thought you might be _dying_. But you're just _gay!?_

Tsukki grabbed the pillow and quickly shoved it behind his back out of Yamaguchi's reach. His mind was still spinning. He didn't know what reaction he'd been expecting, but it certainly wasn't _this._

Evidently intent on hitting him some more, Yamaguchi started crawling onto the bed, lunging for the pillow. Tsukki twisted to protect it, accidentally knocking against Yamaguchi and sending him tumbling off the bed. He landed in a heap of flailing limbs. 

Tsukki looked down to see Yamaguchi sprawled across the floor, his face red with anger, legs and arms akimbo, scrambling gracelessly to regain his footing. Tsukki was sure he didn't look much better. His face felt hot. His glasses were askew, and he was clutching a pillow to his chest like a frightened little girl.

Without warning, Tsukki dissolved into a fit of giggles as though all his nerves and anxiety were suddenly converted to uncontrollable laughter .

This was ridiculous. _They_ were ridiculous. It was too much. Too weird.

It was hilarious!

Yamaguchi seemed to hold onto his anger for just a moment longer before he, too, fell apart completely. He was rolling on the floor now, clutching at his stomach, his peals of laughter echoing loudly around the small bedroom.

"I can't believe you hit me with a pillow for coming out to you!" Tsukki said, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes. 

"I can't believe you couldn't sleep for a _week_ because you're gay!" Yamaguchi shot back, rubbing at a stitch in his side.

They made eye contact and immediately dissolved again, and for several pure, chaotic minutes the room was overrun with the sound of their laughter. 

Gradually, though, the laughter died down, melting into the occasional hiccup and chuckle. And at last, Yamaguchi sat up, a serious look falling across his face.

"Oh, Tsukki! Now that you mention it, I guess I should tell you. I—"

"Boys!" Yamaguchi's mom called up the stairs, "Dinner's ready! Come eat before it gets cold!"

They locked eyes. Yamaguchi just sighed and shrugged, "It's not important. I'll tell you later. Let's go eat."

* * *

An hour and a half later they were huddled on Yamaguchi's bed, his laptop balanced across their knees as they trolled Netflix for a suitable movie. Months ago, they'd made a queue of movies to watch together. Presumably, it was meant to make choosing a movie easier. The problem was that Tsukki's picks were mostly horror films (or "nightmare fuel" as Yamaguchi had dubbed them) and documentaries (while Yamaguchi bore most of Tsukki's interests without complaint, his patience was running thin with the documentaries). And Yamaguchi's picks were an eclectic mix of animated children's films (lame), cheesy action movies (lamer), and artsy foreign films (which Tsukki claimed were always either too pretentious or too sentimental). 

So, picking a movie usually took them a while. Which was fine. It was how things always were.

Currently, they were embroiled in a heated debate between a kid's movie about a lost puppy and the prankster crow who helps him find his way home—

"He's a _crow_ , just like us, Tsukki. Where's your team pride?"

Tsukki just glared.

—and a horror movie featuring a killer Santa Clause that Tsukki had added as a joke back around Christmas but, surprisingly, had gotten pretty good reviews.

"According to critics it's a Killer Christmas Classic," he offered dryly.

Yamaguchi balked, "Why would anyone want to ruin Santa Clause?"

They were still bickering when Mrs. Yamaguchi appeared in the doorway, two giant slices of strawberry shortcake in hand.

_Finally._

Tsukki tried to keep his face passive but couldn't suppress an excited smile when she slid the plate onto his lap.

"Have fun, you two," she said, passing Yamaguchi his own plate, "and don't stay up too late." She said that every time, but it had stopped being a serious warning years ago. 

As she bid them goodnight, she bent and pressed a soft kiss into each of their heads, ruffling their hair affectionately as she turned to go.

She always did that, too.

It had freaked Tsukki out the first time she'd done it. He and Yamaguchi hadn't even been friends that long back then. She'd kissed his head—light and quick and motherly—after kissing Yamaguchi's, and he'd flinched, unused to physical affection outside of his immediate family. She'd smiled apologetically, "Gomen, Kei. You're around so much I almost forget sometimes that you aren't my son, too."

He'd stopped flinching at the kisses after that.

The first bite of cake was heaven, and Tsukki suppressed a moan of delight. While he was distracted by whipped cream and strawberries and the most delicious cake on planet earth, Yamaguchi clicked play on the dog movie.

"That's cheating," he griped.

"Gomen, Tsukki," Yamaguchi replied, mouth already full of cake.

Neither of them moved to change the movie.

This was always Tsukki's favorite part of their sleepovers—after dinner when they'd both showered and everything smelled of soap and clean linen, when they pressed warmly together beneath soft blankets and watched some dumb movie. He suspected it was Yamaguchi's favorite part, too; though, he'd never asked.

He had wondered once, back when they first started high school, if Yamaguchi would want to switch to watching their movies on the couch or on the floor or something instead of huddled close together in bed. It was probably a weird thing to do, now that they were getting older. It didn't seem completely normal, especially since they were so much bigger now and had to sit so much closer just to fit on the bed. But Yamaguchi had never complained. And, if Yamaguchi wasn't bothered by it, Tsukki didn't feel the need to bring it up. Besides, though he would never, ever admit it, he enjoyed sitting so close. It made him feel warm and relaxed and tingly, and he didn't particularly want to give that up. 

20 minutes into the movie, Tsukki leaned across Yamaguchi to place his plate on the bedside table, laughing softly when he spied the bit of whipped cream on the end of Yamaguchi's nose.

_Typical._

He always got whipped cream on his nose. 

Reflexively, Tsukki reached out and swiped the cream off with his index finger. Lifting the finger to his mouth, he swirled his tongue around it slowly, intent on preventing even the smallest bit of sweetness from going to waster.

He paused when he noticed Yamaguchi watching him, eyes wide and glassy.

"What?"

Yamaguchi jumped, and his face colored a dark crimson. He cleared his throat, voice cracking slightly, "N-nothing! Gomen, Tsukki."

Suspicious, Tsukki narrowed his eyes, but, eventually, he just shrugged and turned back to the movie. It was good, actually. The plot was decent. Plus, the art style was pretty, and the score was nice. And, yeah, that puppy was really cute.

"Hey, Tsukki?" Yamaguchi said.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks, for earlier. For telling me about...you know."

Tsukki just grimaced. He'd hoped they wouldn't have to talk about this anymore. "It's fine. Just thought you should know."

"Yeah..." Yamaguchi's voice was soft and thoughtful, "I was thinking about what you said, though..."

Tsukki quirked an eyebrow, confused and a bit annoyed. How much more context did Yamaguchi need? It wasn't that complicated.

"Well," he continued, "you said you didn't have a type, right?"

Tsukki nodded slowly, still unsure where this was going.

Yamaguchi was blushing profusely now, and he didn't seem to be able to look Tsukki directly in the eye. He fidgeted as he spoke, too, hands fisting into the sheets, "I mean, that's not totally true, right?"

"I'm gay. There's no type of girl that I'm romantically attracted to," Tsukki still wasn't sure why he needed to spell out something so obvious.

Yamaguchi waved his hand in front of his face, "No, no. I got that. I mean...like...you still have a _type_ right? Just not a type of girl..."

Realization washed over Tsukki like a tidal wave, and he felt heat spread across his cheeks. "Yeah, I guess. Why do you care?"

"I don't!" Yamaguchi reddened even further, "I mean...I'm just curious."

"Tch—" Tsukki scoffed. This was dumb. This wasn't a thing they talked about. Why would they start now?

He turned his attention back to the movie, rewinding it a bit because he'd missed something while they were talking.

After a few minutes, though, guilt started to claw at his insides. It was an innocent enough question. This was something normal guys talked about, right? God knows Tanaka and Nishinoya wouldn't shut up about the type of girls they liked (primarily smart, long-haired, soft-spoken goddesses with "adorable glasses"). He'd overheard Hinata and Yamaguchi talking about how cute Yachi was plenty of times. One of the first years even had a calendar of scantily clad models pinned up in his locker. Every time he changed the month at least one of the guys would offer their thoughts on the new girl.

So, yes, this was definitely a thing guys talked about. Granted, he and Yamaguchi had never talked about it before, but maybe Yamaguchi thought Tsukki had been embarrassed before. Maybe he thought Tsukki would want to talk about it now that he was "out." (He didn't, but still.) Hell, he was probably just trying to show Tsukki that he didn't think of him as any different than any other guy. In short, he was being a good friend.

_He's not being weird. You are._

As the credits began to roll on the movie (after a truly heartwarming ending that may or may not have made both their eyes a bit misty), Tsukki sighed heavily and said, in the most neutral, disinterested tone he could muster, "I'm not really sure what my type is. It wasn't something I let myself thing about before...but...brunettes, I think. More than blondes, at least. And no one too short, but definitely not taller than me. I'd hate that."

For the second time tonight Yamaguchi was looking at him with wide, wonder-filled eyes.

Tsukki glared back at him. That look was obnoxious—captivating, but obnoxious. Was Tsukki being open about his feelings really such a miracle? Plus, that look made him feel funny, queasy but in kind of a good way—as though something warm was fluttering around in his stomach. 

Obnoxious.

"Stop staring," he said finally.

Yamaguchi flushed, "Gomen, Tsu—"

"And stop apologizing."

"Heh," Yamaguchi laughed weekly, averting his gaze and moving to turn off the laptop. 

Tsukki slid out from under the covers—lightly mourning the loss of warmth—and started readying for bed. They probably wouldn't sleep yet. Yamaguchi would play on his Switch some more. Tsukki would read a book or play on his own Switch. But they would set Tsukki's futon up now.

It was what they always did.

He pulled the guest futon out from its usual place in the back of the closet, laying it a few feet from Yamaguchi's bed at an angle where the light from the window wouldn't hit his face in the morning. He was digging around in the closet again, looking for his favorite quilt, when he heard a mumble behind him.

"Didn't hear you," he said, at last locating the thick, blue quilt and hauling it out of the closet.

Yamaguchi cleared his throat, "Blondes...I said that I like blondes."

Tsukki rolled his eyes.

_Why were they still talking about this?_

"Yeah I figured," he answered, tone dripping with disinterest, "You've talked about Yachi before."

"No, I mean," something in Yamaguchi's tone made Tsukki look up from carefully spreading the quilt out over his bed for the night, "I like all kinds of blondes...girls and—" he swallowed heavily "—and guys."

Tsukki's hands stilled over the quilt. "Huh?" he said, vaguely aware of his mouth hanging open like a fish.

"I'm bi," Yamaguchi said. He anxiously twisted at his blankets, and Tsukki could see the slightest tremor in his hands as they moved.

_He's nervous. You should say something._

"Oh."

_Smooth._

Yamaguchi was looking at him now, big doe eyes equal parts nervous and hopeful. And suddenly, Tsukki was annoyed again.

Wasn't it obvious that Tsukki wouldn't judge him? He hadn't judged Tsukki after all. Honestly, it was stupid that either of them had ever been nervous. Their friendship was stronger than this dumb shit.

"Doesn't matter," Tsukki said, smirking up at Yamaguchi, "just makes it twice as embarrassing that no one's every confessed to you." 

Tsukki was prepared this time and easily caught the pillow that was lobbed at his head. But Yamaguchi was grinning. He'd gotten the subtext.

 _You're still you. I'm still me. This doesn't change_ _anything._

"Did you just figure it out?" Tsukki asked, tossing the pillow back up to his friend.

Yamaguchi shook his head, clutching the pillow to his middle, "I've known for about a year."

Tsukki felt his eyebrows raise in surprise, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Yamaguchi shrugged and moved to pull his Switch out from its dock on his nightstand. "You don't care about that stuff."

It wasn't a malicious statement. There was no hurt or accusation in his words. It was just a statement of fact.

Tsukki rifled through his bag for his own Switch, turning his back to Yamaguchi as he spoke, "No, I don't," he heard Yamaguchi chuckle behind him, "I don't care about that stuff most of the time...But I think," he chewed on his lip, searching for the right words, "When it's you, I think that I do care. At least a little." 

Yamaguchi didn't say anything (for which Tsukki was grateful. He'd had more than enough sentimentality for one evening). But he didn't need too. Everything that needed to be said had been said. And the rest of the night passed in a blur of video games and whispered conversations and sleepy laughter.

The same as always. 


End file.
